


stygios mortiferum

by EveningTiefling



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Breathplay, F/M, Impact Play, Implied Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Pegging, Rope Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Shibari, Smoking, Suspension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningTiefling/pseuds/EveningTiefling
Summary: A collection of very short pwp one shots. Tags will be updated as I post. If you see something you don't like please move on <3Enjoy
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	1. ZagThan - sensory deprivation

As always, Zag wakes, bobbing helplessly in the pool of the river Styx. His muscles are tired, body sore. He stirs gently, starting to find purchase with his feet and hands in the shoulder-high blood of the river. His senses come to him, one by one. Or they do not.

Usually by now he has use of his sight, but upon blinking he feels the tight wrap of some cloth covering his eyes. He lifts a hand to brush it away, weakly, but he feels a firm hand clamp immediately to his wrist. 

Zagreus goes tense. 

He feels a hand press firmly over his mouth.

Thrashing slightly, his limbs waking up from their short restless slumber, he senses the body next to him, standing firmly in the pool while he scrambles. Zagreus splashes, trying to vault backwards, shot with adrenaline. He finds that he cannot. His feet slip out from underneath him, his hands clasping around the body, one free arm gripping taut around another man’s waist. 

He swears he can hear the echo of a voice, primordial and sensual in the chaos of the pool. He recognizes it. His fear subsides, but he is not comforted. 

_ “Stop your crying, Zagreus.” _

His voice is sweet, chiming in two tones, rasping against the inside of Zagreus’s mind like it was teleported there. Thanatos holds him firmly down, pulling him by the wrist and underneath his arm to the pool’s edge, throwing him mercilessly against the steps. Thanatos’s body presses warmly between his legs. By what senses he has left, Zagreus knows this to be a secluded spot, but before he can say more he feels hands on him, and he is pushed underneath the surface, further into the pool again. 

His ears fill with a whooshing, muffling liquid, rendering all sounds muted and warbled. Above him, he hears the same voice, rung as a bell through the watery panic.

_ “Go on. Escape.”  _

Thanatos laughs, voice chiming clearly as Zagreus’s head surfaces, breathing steadily and hard through his nose, a gasp escaping his mouth. He clings to Thanatos, wrapped around him helplessly. He does not touch his blindfold. Thanatos must be smiling. 

Zagreus feels warm, wet hands start to prod at his body, stroking long lines down his chest, an un-hurried preamble. A hand wraps around his face again, silencing the breaths that have started to come heavy and long. Everything goes cloudy with the lack of air. The air, the pool, and Thanatos blur together. Zag feels a finger, maybe two, he cannot tell. He arches into the hard stone against his back. He feels the pressure, the blood, the bruises on his skin, a building and a tensing. He feels Thanatos’s breath against his throat and his strong hands pinning down his arms, before he is deafened yet again, pushed underneath the water, then pulled out and gasping for breath. He gasps a final time, curling backwards into that fuzzy twilight, held taught like the strings of fate but with nothing and everything around him, no sight, no hearing, pain and pleasure smudged together. 

  
  


And when he finally wakes up, floating again in the river Styx, he is weaker than whence he came. 


	2. charon/hermes - smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some professional associates get high. (tw: smoke inhalation, shotgunning)

Hermes went to Charon every day, on schedule, zipping in and out with news and tasks and boons from the gods. He brings gifts, and tales, and prattles on and on and on about this thing and that. 

Hermes hovers closer until he is nearly inside the Stygian ferry, naming his duties at warp speed. When he is here, it all pours out of him, his mouth finally catching up with his swiftness of foot.

Charon is quiet and steady, a comforting presence alongside Hermes’ hurried mannerisms. Hermes leans in, drinking in Charon’s smoke. It’s the scent of incense and cinnamon, sweet and woody, that has him leaning closer still. 

Easily, like the stroke of an oar, Charon lifts their hand and places it on Hermes’ shoulder, guiding him down closer to them on the boat. Slowly, Hermes drifts inward, illustrating his daily tale with his hands, before he realizes the press of the hand on his lower back. Hermes looks up, and their gaze meets his. A trickle of smoke, framing their face, and the smiling hum of approval. Comfort. And allure. 

Hermes leans closer, floating inches off the bench. Hermes leans down and drinks in the sweet smell, inhaling. Charon leans closer still, the two of them dancing in between, Hermes’ speech slowing to a trickle, eyes darting between mouth and smoke and their eyes. Charon is steady still. 

Hermes now floating millimeters off Charon’s lap, his empty lungs fill, the shared breath between them hot and flecked with the moisture of their mouths. Hermes doesn’t stop. He drinks it in, that violet vapor, and he brings both hands up to cup Charon’s face, pulling them in closer. They kiss. Caught between the press of their lips, Hermes breathes in deeply, his lungs filling. It chokes him, but he doesn’t mind. He nearly pulls away, exhaling… has he become higher? His usual floating seems less guided. Slower. His head is spinning on fumes. Charon’s hands are wrapped neatly around his waist, pulling him down firmly into their lap.

Charon presses closer, just in time for Hermes to lean in and drink him in again. Hermes swears he feels the slip of a tongue against his lower lip. Hermes opens his mouth again, and Charon’s mouth moves in time, both of them sharing another breath in a single motion, the draft of purple slipping between Hermes’ lips, down his throat, and warming him through the core. His head swims. His body aches. _He's getting high. More._

Hermes wonders if he can even open his mouth for more. But he does, sitting firmly in Charon’s lap, drunk on their kiss and obscured by the haze. Charon uses one of their long, slim fingers to brush a stray strand of hair from Hermes’ eyes. Hermes knows, in their silent language, that they are wanting. Teasingly, Hermes dips in again, and he is welcomed with the press of their hand along the back of his head, another gentle hand drifting warmly down, and down, and down. Hermes grabs the edge of Charon’s collar, grinding deeply into his lap, feeling the swelling desire there and kissing him again. 

He groans and throws his head back dazily, his usual trail of words crumbling to muttering and gasping, nearly praying to every god on Olympus, as if they needed to hear his groaning cries. 


	3. megaera/zagreus - pegging/suspension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pegging/Shibari/Suspension. tw: dubious consent, blood, spit, other fun things

Zagreus’s feet slip across the floor, his waist held aloft by a wrap of rope. She had beaten him, but left him alive, feet placed precariously over a spent trap, holes from spikes barely providing purchase under his sore soles. His ragged breath leaves his mouth in time with his thumping heart, red blood sputtering out between his teeth from where he was broken.

Dangling there in the center, his arms bound above his head, Zagreus looks up through the veil of his bangs to see her approaching, footstep after slow footstep, her whip uncoiled and trailing across the floor, poised from recent combat. 

  
“Do you come here just to lose? You’re not even a challenge,” Megaera coos, her sandpaper voice cutting through the echoing chamber. 

“Come on Meg, I come here for you, not for your sisters, for you--” Zagreus chokes out, watching her heels finally click into place right beneath his chin.

He doesn’t have long to look at the length of her legs before a knee makes contact with his chin, clapping shut his jaw and forcing his tongue between his teeth. He spits more blood. His feet clamber to keep him steady, toes grazing the dead air underneath the trap and a deadly draft reminding him that the only thing between himself and certain death is a thin metal grate. 

He feels the gentle tail of the whip, raking across his back. 

“I’ll give you a challenge.”

And then it’s not so gentle. 

Zag cries again, sweat dribbling down his back and dripping off his forehead. He sets his jaw, staring into space, feeling the clear ring of the pain, trying to fight through and keep his knees bent slightly to prevent himself from fainting. He could endure. 

“I can take the challenge,” he spits. 

“A man after my own heart.”

Her long legs pace behind him, and then she’s kicking his feet out from under him, spreading his legs by kicking at his ankles. 

Zag whines, his head lolling forward and drooping in the dead space. He grimaces, feeling her cold, smooth hand trailing down his spine, down to his lower back, and then a tight grasp on his ass, spreading him apart. Her hands explore him for a while, her touch almost soothing, soft over his bruises. He can feel the rake of her nails, the softer tips of her blunt fingers where they’re cut short. He spreads his legs further, slipping again, and a fast SMACK steadies him. Zagreus trembles, feeling the wet push of something new, and was that-  _ a kiss? _ \- in the center of his back. He feels her lean in, the press of her body against him, her chest pressed into his back, a trail of hot kisses across his shoulders, her hands and the whip tracing over his ribs, teasing his nipples for a moment. Sometimes, she is kind. 

“Maybe this will keep you coming back.”

She works her hand lower, teasing at his hole, a slick finger preparing him. She keeps the whip trailing across his back as she does this, letting him dangle, and Zagreus tries with all his might not to whimper. Involuntarily almost, he leans forward, tilting his lower half backwards, raising his legs until he’s on tiptoe. Another shiver runs through him, every nerve raw, the low heat in his stomach swelling. 

“Yes,” Zag whispers.

That’s when he feels the press of the toy, cold as her skin, and slender, covered in what must be lube or sweat or spit. Or all three. 

She pushes into him, teasing at first, his back arching with each new press. He isn’t ready. His shoulder blades lock, and she seems to delight in it, her rasping voice giggling as he cries out. His entire body is numb, only the point of contact between them and Meg’s guiding hands noticeable in the negative space of his suspension. She thrusts into him slower, one long slow drag, her hands gripping into his sides like a vice. And then she is in him, all at once, claws out and digging into him without mercy.

Suddenly the whip comes into play, threaded underneath him, taught across his hips and cock, Meg holding the rope like reins on either side. Zagreus bends over further, body limp and dangling from where it hangs. She pulls, bucking into him, forcing them together and putting pressure on the length of him all at once. The back of his thighs make contact with her legs, his toes barely keeping him steady while she fucks him. It hurts. It hurts. It’s good. The toy slides past that spot within him and he moans, his cock throbbing against his stomach, and Meg pulls the whip tighter, riding him. 

Faster, and faster, without stopping until he’s dribbling out onto the floor, white hot and knock kneed, limp at the end of Tartarus. Falling back to the river styx. 

**Author's Note:**

> comment with suggestions I might write more!!


End file.
